The Price
by Quills
Summary: Archer contemplates a future with T'Pol, but finds a heavy price comes with it.


Title: The Price

Author: Quills

Contact: quillsthequillpen.net

Series: ENT

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer:  Paramount owns Star trek and I derive no financial gain from this story.

Codes: A,T'P, T

Summary:  Archer decides that there might be more to his relationship with T'Pol, but an unexpected revelation reveals the price he must pay if he follows his heart.

_Captain's star log, February 25th, 2154. We have successfully restored Earth's time-line to its correct configuration. Our mission has been successful…Earth is safe. Enterprise is currently in space dock undergoing extensive repairs. My crew has been given extended leave following a hero's welcome. We are all taking this last night aboard ship to say our farewells to those crewmembers that will not be returning when repairs to Enterprise are complete. We have all been together for a very long time. It will be hard enough being apart for six weeks, but for others it will be a last goodbye._

"End log entry."

Archer tapped the button on his computer display. His last official act until he returned. Unlike the crew, Archer would be back during the repairs; overseeing some system refits and general upgrades. Still, she would be silent and empty. Her 'children' away while the majestic lady was mended and healed. In many ways, she would be better than before, Archer reassured himself. New systems with more advanced technology would allow her to travel farther distances for longer periods. But she would never be the same. None of them would. The Xindi attack had made sure of that. They had each 'grown up', but the price they paid was a costly one.

Archer stood from the desk chair, walking over to his office view port. Looking out, he could see the long poly-alloy support beams of the space dock. Accustomed to seeing the open expanse of space, the space dock seemed almost alien to him. Turning away, he looked at the chronometer, on his desk.

_Almost_ seven _o'clock,_ he sighed. _Why am I making this so damn difficult? Is it guilt? Maybe I'm just out of practice. It's not like I've had that many opportunities in the past nine months._

Walking past his bunk, he looked up at the small collection of books adorning the shelf. He had always had a special place in his heart for books. They were the truest exploration of human introspection. They told so much about his people. But not just humans; he had found that, although not every species placed as great an emphasis on the written word, a great many did. Vulcans in particular, were a race that placed great value on the words their ancestors left behind. Reaching out, he pulled a slender red bound book from the collection. Turning the book over, he examined the cover.

_The Writings of Surak_

It had been a gift from T'Pol, to help him relax. T'Pol…the current source of his frustrations. As an officer, he adhered to Starfleet's regulations of non-fraternization with subordinates. Being the captain, that put him in a decidedly isolated position to the rest of his crew. But T'Pol was hardly like the rest of his crew. Neither Starfleet nor High Command, she was a part of the crew, but always separate, much like himself. She was beautiful and intelligent. She was also damn annoying, and he had found himself attracted to her from the moment they had met. When she had chosen to stay aboard _Enterprise _he came to know her not just as a Vulcan, but also as a person. His attraction to her only grew over time, as did his sense that she reciprocated his feelings. But he was the captain. She was a close friend, but couldn't be any more. He wondered if he was using that as an excuse. Was there a simpler and more visceral reason? Was he simply afraid? Even if they were both willing, what kind of life could two people have together who were as alien to one another as there were? He had tried to put that part of his life behind him, but an unexpected event brought the question up once again.

When a future version of  _Enterprise_ made contact with them, he met Lorian, the son of Trip and T'Pol. The product, he was told, of a very happy and satisfying union between a human…and a Vulcan. Perhaps they were not so different after all. Trip and T'Pol were certainly as different as they came, in Archer's opinion. He was more than a little surprised to learn who Lorian's father was. But that was an alternate future. History had already been changed. What had happened was no longer written in stone. The future was a blank page to be written on. Did he dare to pick up history's pen? Would he be taking her away from Trip? Archer chided himself for being so supremely arrogant. As if the decision were his to make. It was T'Pol's. She would be the one to choose with whom she would spend her life with, if anyone at all. If she and Trip were meant to be together, then that would be her choice as much as his.

Looking down, he stared at the gold etched letters on the book's face. He remembered some of the writings, the philosophy behind Vulcan: a supreme adherence to that which is logical. He tried to remember a quote. How did it go?

_…enlightenment comes only to those that seek it…_

Humans had a similar saying.

_Nothing ventured, nothing gained._

Placing the book back on the shelf, he headed for the exit. Whatever the future might hold, he wasn't going to find his answers sitting in his cabin. He would follow the wisdom of Surak, and seek enlightenment from the source.

Archer walked down the corridor, passing his quarters; they were only a few doors away from T'Pol's. He had visited her there more times, than he could count, but this time was different. This time his purpose didn't involve the ship or Earth or their mission. It involved them. Stopping in front of her quarters, he took a deep breath, wiping his sweaty hands against his pant legs. He felt like a high school kid asking a girl to the prom. It excited and scared him at the same time.

Reaching out to the panel, he stopped. Frozen in place, his hand hovered over the door chime; looking down he could see his hand visibly shaking. Clenching it into a fist he tried to stop his hand from trembling. Squeezed his eyes shut he was suddenly overcome by an intense nausea that threatened to overwhelm him. Swallowing hard, he fought the reaction his body was having. Sucking in a lungful of air, he took several deep breaths, exhaling slowly. After a moment, he could feel the nausea passing, and looking down he noticed the trembling in his hand had stopped.  Looked up at the door, he focused his attention on it, trying to regain his composure.

_What the hell just happened?_

Rubbing his head, he tried to massage the dull-throbbing ache that began to pulse through his forehead. Continuing to stare at the door, he noticed something was different. It wasn't the dull-gray color like the other doors on the ship. This one was a snowy white color. For a moment, he shook his head, making sure he wasn't still suffering from the nausea he had experienced only moments ago. Turning, he looked down the hall. The deck plating was gone. In its place were beige carpeted floors. The corrugated plating that lined the bulkhead was also absent. Now smooth white walls with decorative paintings dotting along the hallway. Hearing a hiss, he turned suddenly as the door slid open. Archer looked in dumbfound surprise at the familiar face in the entranceway.

"T'Pol?" he said in confusion. It was T'Pol, but she looked different. Her hair was still the same chestnut color, but it had streaks of gray in it. It was shoulder length, and tied to one side. She also looked older, not so much that it detracted from her beauty, but it was definitely noticeable. She was wearing a long pale blue robe, which still showed her figure, but was a far cry from the form fitting uniforms he had grown accustomed to seeing her in.

"Jonathan," she said. "You're early. We weren't expecting you until six o'clock."

"I-" but Archer couldn't speak. His confusion made it impossible for him to articulate the words. How could this be T'Pol, and where was he? His surroundings were alien to him, and yet strangely familiar.

"Please, come in," she said leading him through the doorway. They both walked down a small hallway, leading to an airy and spacious room. Archer looked into the room. It was sparse, but tastefully so. He noticed several objects that looked Vulcan: and IDIC symbol, several small stone vases that he had seen in T'Pol's quarters aboard _Enterprise_, but he also noticed a number of human objects: a mahogany writing desk and chair, a brass pendulum clock, a painting of a seascape, and…a Christmas tree?

"Jonathan has arrived early," announced T'Pol, entering the open room.

Archer looked around, but couldn't see to whom T'Pol was talking to. There didn't appear to be anyone else in the room. Suddenly, from behind the partially decorated tree, emerged another familiar face. Like T'Pol, it looked different. Age was much more telling; perhaps thirty years he thought, but there was no mistaking who the face belonged to.

"Trip?"

"Admiral," Trip beamed, as he walked over to Archer, taking his hand and shaking it excitedly. "I'm glad you're here." Turning back, he looked at the Christmas tree, framing it with his hands. "What do ya think? T'Pol says it's straight, but I don't know. I think it's crooked. You we're always good at settlin' arguments between us. What do you think?"

"Um…I…," stammering, he looked from Trip to T'Pol.

"Really Trip, Jon did not come hear to settle a disagreement regarding the vertical positioning of your cultural display."

Archer watched Trip grin as he leaned close to her.

"You just know I'm right," he smiled, planting a kiss on her forehead.

T'Pol's brow went up. Archer noticed a tinge of green came to her cheeks. Apparently, even in her older years, T'Pol would still find emotional displays uncomfortable. Even welcome ones, and Archer was certain that it was welcome. He caught the subtle smile she gave Trip as he walked into an adjacent room.

"Can I offer ya some nog?" he called out.

"Um…do you have anything stronger?"

Trip stuck his head into the room. "Bit early to be hittin' the sauce," he said with a wink. "Yer not gonna get me into trouble with the wife?"

Archer turned, looking at T'Pol blankly. _Wife?_

Before he could say anything, the door chime echoed. Excusing herself, T'Pol turned away, heading down the small corridor leading to the front door. Archer watched her, still mystified by his surroundings. Looking around, he noticed a balcony window. Looking out, he could see the sun shining on San Francisco bay. He didn't understand it. How was he here? Trip and T'Pol married, and he was an admiral? It seemed impossible, and yet part of him was completely at ease. It was as if things were as they should be. Hearing his name called, he turned around to see Trip returning with two tumbler glasses in his hands, holding one out for Archer."

"Here's yer drink."

Archer looked at him for a moment. He still couldn't believe this was his old friend, but somehow it seemed right. It was as if he were aware of two different lives, each being equally valid.

"Oh…um, thanks," he said, taking the glass.

Putting it up to his lips, he held it for a moment. The sweet aroma of Kentucky Bourbon filled his nostrils. In an instant, he tilted his had back, draining the glass in one swallow.

Trip looked at him with wide-eyed surprise, "Damn sir, go easy on that stuff."

"Can I have another," he said, shaking his head.

"Jon…are you alright?" Putting his hand on Archer's shoulder, he gave him a concerned look.

Archer shook his head. "I don't know…I-I don't know."

"Jon, you've been under a lot of pressure. When yer not in meetings with the Federation council, yer spear heading the _Daedelus _project, not to mention overseeing this years cadets. You've really been pushing yourself. You don't need to do it all Jon. Yer only human."

"I…"

"And don't you try deny'n it," said Trip. "T'Pol bein' on the Federation council and all, she's seen the signs, admiral. She's bein' worried about ya. We both have."

Archer smiled at his friend. It was good to know he was still there for him. They both were. He had regretted the distance he had allowed to grow between he and Trip. But it didn't seem like there was any distance at all. Was that part of his other life? He couldn't be sure. It was all so confusing. He had known Trip and T'Pol for over thirty years. He was best man at their wedding. He was even godfather too…

"Lorian?" said Archer, turning to the new face that had entered the room. Archer looked at the tall Vulcan standing next to T'Pol. He was in what looked like a variation of Starfleet's standard duty uniform. The collar band apparently replaced the shoulder stripes to signify the three divisions: command, science and support. Lorian's was blue science.

"Admiral, sir," said the tall Vulcan. "It's good to see you again, sir."

Archer smiled, extending his hand. He could sense the nervousness in his voice.

"Oh really," said Trip sarcastically. "You can say hello ta the admiral, but what about yer old man?"

Grabbing Lorian, Trip gave him a hug. Archer stood by, watching in amusement.

"Please dad," said Lorian, struggling, "not in front of Admiral Archer."

Trip let his son go, shaking his head with a smile. "Afraid a little affection from the old man is going to ruin yer image, lieutenant?" He gave the last word special emphasis. He was proud of his son, but he wasn't above ribbing him now and again.

"Lieutenant?" said Archer. "I had almost forgotten. Congratulations on the promotion."

"Thank you, sir," replied Lorian.

"I also understand you have a new ship to go with your new rank," said Archer, but he was uncertain how he was aware of it.

"Yes, sir. I've been transferred to the _Ptolemy_."

"Good posting," said Archer. "She's a good ship."

"Lorian will be the _Ptolemy's_ new science officer," said T'Pol.

Archer looked at T'Pol, smiling. She may not have displayed her affection or pride like Trip, but Archer knew better. She was very proud of her son, and not just because he followed he path as a scientist.

"Just like his mom," said Trip, putting his arm around T'Pol.

Archer looked at the three of them and smiled. Father, mother and son…they looked so happy together. He felt a twinge of envy, for he had never married or had children. What T'Pol and Trip had was something special. Something he had denied himself, and he suddenly wondered why? Looking at T'Pol, he felt something…something old…something familiar, but he wasn't sure what it was.

"Jonathan," she said, noticing him staring.

A sudden pain shot through his temple. Wincing, his hand flew to his temple. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought the nauseating feeling that was overtaking him again. Breathing in slowly, he tried to keep from losing his balance from the vertigo affect he was experiencing.

"Jonathan?" said T'Pol.

He could feel her grab him by the arm, supporting him.

Jonathan, are you unwell?"

Feeling the effects disappearing, he opened his eyes.

"T'Pol?"

It had happened again. It was T'Pol, but she was different. Young, like the one he knew aboard the _Enterprise_. Looking around, he could see that his location had also changed. He was no longer in an apartment. Trip and Lorian weren't there. He was standing in a circle. No, it was a raised platform. He was in an auditorium. There were people, thousands of them in the seats. They were cheering. Looking up, he could see a banner or a flag. It was blue with silver symbol. He had seen this before, the auditorium and the flag. This was seven years after the Xindi mission. Daniels had showed it to him right before his mission to destroy. He told him that it was the creation of the Federation, he had often mentioned. He also told Archer that he was part of it.

Looking back at T'Pol, he saw the look of concern in her eyes. Putting his hand to her shoulder, he nodded his head.

"I'm alright…I guess I'm just a little overwhelmed."

Why didn't he tell her? He felt out of place, but at home. Conflicting feelings, and not knowing which were true and which were false. The memory of Trip and T'Pol, together was a foggy memory that he eluded him the more he tried to recall it.

"That is to be expected," she said reassuringly. "This is a momentous occasion. The beginning of a united federation of planets joined in the prospect of a brighter future.

You're vision helped make this possible."

"I was just one man."

"But an important man," she corrected. "A man I am very proud to know…and to love."

Archer looked at her in shock.

"I know I don't often say the word, but I do love you husband."

He was her husband. They were married five years ago. How had he forgotten something like that? It was all very confusing. He had mixed emotions and memories. His memories and feelings in the here and now were strong, much stronger than they had been a few moments ago. But the nagging conflict was still there.

"T'Pol…"

"Yes?"

"I-I love you T'Pol."

"I know," she said, caressing his cheek.

Closing his eyes, he felt her warm skin against his. Letting out a sigh, he smiled. But when he opened his eyes, he started. T'Pol was still there, but the surroundings had changed again. The crowds were gone. They were no longer in the auditorium. It was a room, and it was familiar to him. He recognized the furnishings and the large balcony windows. They were in his apartment in San Francisco. They were both sitting on his couch.

"T'Pol-"

Placing her fingers to his lips, she gently shushed him.

"Please…I have something to tell," she said earnestly. "I received a letter today, from Doctor Phlox. He has found a way to combine Human and Vulcan genes. He believes there is a good chance that he can use the technique for us. We can have a child."

Archer stared at her, allowing the words to register, a child…he and T'Pol…a family. Slowly a smile formed on his lips. Pulling her too him, he pressed his lips to hers in a searing kiss. To his utter delight, she melted into his arms, returning the kiss with a vigorous passion. Standing, he lifted her up into his arms.

"Jonathan!" she said cried in alarm.

His pressed his lips to hers again, silencing her protests. Wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him tightly as he carried her to their bedroom. Gently laying her on their bed, he began to slowly undress her as he trailed kisses down her body. Shuddering at the pleasurable touch of his strong hands, she glided her own hands up his lean torso, sliding open the front of his tunic. Soon, clothing was cast aside, as Human and Vulcan passion collided in the heat of desire. Soft caresses and hard strokes led to moans and sighs of unending pleasure as the night hours drifted by. Until finally, spent all their energy, they fell into each other's arms, where welcome sleep took hold of both.

Archer opened his eyes. The room dark and for a moment he wasn't sure where he was.

Then he made out the familiar surroundings of his apartment. He had, had the strangest dream. He was still on the _Enterprise_, then he was somewhere else, with Trip and T'Pol. It was all very strange. Turning over, he looked for T'Pol, but she wasn't there. Sitting up, he noticed that he was fully clothed. When did he put his clothes on and why did they smell like he'd been swimming in gin. Feeling a dull ache in his head, he massaged his temples. Had he had another attack? No, this felt different. It was more familiar. He was suffering from a hangover. When had he been drinking? The last thing he remembered was making love to T'Pol.  Getting up, he walked into the living room.

"T'Pol?"

Something wasn't right. The apartment was dark. There were no lights, no chronometers; no illumination of any kind, save the city light that filtered through the partially opened balcony curtains. Taking a deep breath, he could smell a musty odor in the room. The kind he associated with a place that had not been tended to for some time. As his eyes adjusted to the lighting, he looked around the room, able to make out more of its features. The tables, the couch, the chairs…they were all covered with white sheets. Running his hand along the chair closest to him, he could feel a thin film of dust, which had settled on the covering. Walking over to the sliding glass door, leading to the balcony, he looked out at the view of San Francisco bay. It was just as he had always known it. But why was he here? What reason could there be? There had to be a reason for what had been happening to him. Was he losing his mind? No! This was all some elaborate ploy by someone. It had to be. Turning suddenly, he lashed out in a fit of anger.

"Show yourself!" he screamed angrily.

He scanned the room, watching for someone to appear. When no one answered, he tried a different tact.

"Daniels?" he said questioningly. "Is this another one of your games. You're showing me possible futures? Probable outcomes of things that might happen? I'm not going to play."

Listening, he strained to hear the slightest sound.

"Dammit," he screamed. "Why are you doing this?"

Scanning the room again, he saw no movement. Nothing to suggest that he was anything but alone. He doubted Daniels was behind this. He always appeared to him when he chose to reveal the future. Looking down, he noticed a data padd lying on one of the covered end tables. Reaching out, he picked it up, studying it for a moment. It was a little different than the standard Starfleet data padds he was used to, but it was definitely familiar. Depressing a small green button at the bottom, he was greeted by the padd's screen suddenly coming to life. Squinting at the harsh light, he tried to read the text that was being displayed.

_Captain Jonathan Archer,_

We regret to inform you that your wife, Ambassador T'Pol, has died from injuries received from the crash of shuttle 214. All attempts were made to resuscitate her at the scene of the crash. She was transported too Sainte Anne's Hospital, in Paris, but was pronounced deceased on arrival. We extend our deepest sympathies for your loss.

_United Federation of Planets_

_Diplomatic corps_

"No," he said in a choked voice. Dropping the padd to the floor, he began shaking his head, repeating the word over and over. "No…no…no, no, no!"

Lunging forward, he grabbed a covered end table; picking it up, he threw it, smashing it violently against the far wall. Turning he grabbed a sheet covering. Jerking it, he pulled the cover away, revealing the beige colored couch. Moving around it, he grabbed other sheets, pulling them away, flinging them to the ground. He tore through the room like a whirlwind, overturning tables, knocking down vases and other apparently personal items that belonged to he and T'Pol. When he had finished, the room was a shambled mess, with sheets, overturned and broken furniture cluttering the floor. Collapsing to his knees, he looked down. Lying on the floor was the data padd. Hesitantly, he picked it up, staring at it blankly. A tear streamed down his cheek, and in a moment, Archer began to sob uncontrollably, clutching the data padd against his chest. Closing his eyes, he rocked back and forth, as he forced every fiber in his body to will himself away from whatever madness he had been thrown into.

When there were no more tears left, Archer slowly began to open his eyes. Fearing what he might see next, he hesitated, peering slowly. When he opened them fully, what he saw pleasantly surprised him…a dull metallic gray door. Turning quickly, he looked around him. In either direction, he saw a narrow corridor, with deck plating floors and corrugated walls. He was back aboard the _Enterprise_. But where had he been? His mind was clouded with images, sounds, and smells all seeming to slowly fade as he desperately tried to recall them. He had been somewhere else. He was certain of it, or was he. He remembered Trip and T'Pol…a crowd of people, but he couldn't recall anything with certainty. No, that wasn't true. He did recall something…a feeling, a very strong feeling of …sorrow. It was the most intense emotion he had ever felt.

Looking back at the door, he tried to remember why he had come here. His mind was still unclear. Then he remembered. He wanted to see T'Pol, to talk to her about the two of them. Reaching out, he moved his hand to the buzzer. Hesitating, he wondered if there was a connection. He could feel something, but wasn't sure what. All he was certain of is that he had an overwhelming sense of loss and sorrow and although he didn't know how or why…he sensed it involved T'Pol. Something was going to happen to her. Not now and maybe not tomorrow, but if he walked through that door he had the fearful premonition that he was going to cause something terrible to happen to her.

T'Pol opened her eyes. The door chime had roused her from contemplative meditation. At one time, she had found her nightly meditative exercises a relief among the tumultuous emotional bombardment of the day. But now, the emotions she was assailed with came from not only outside, but also from within. Thoughts and dreams had invaded her logical processes. Conflict and fear intermingled with lust and desire had taken root in her fertile mind. Rising, she treaded slowly to her door. Reaching out hesitantly, she touched the controls allowing the door to slide open. Looking past the opening door, she did not hide her surprise at who had come calling on her.

"Hey," smiled Trip.

Not receiving a response, his smile changed to a look of concern. He could see a confused expression on her normally stoic features.

"You ok?"

"Yes," she said finally, nodding her head.

He wasn't satisfied. "You sure?"

"I thought…" she began, but stopped. She was uncertain what had come over her or why she was so surprised to see Tucker. She hadn't expected anyone. "How long have you been waiting?"

"I just got here," he said, shaking his head. "You opened the door before I even had a chance to press the buzzer."

She looked at him vacantly for a moment. Her mind trying to focus on what she had been thinking, but it was use.

"T'Pol-"

"Trip…I am fine," she said reassuringly. "Did you come here for a reason?"

"Ya…I …well, I was wonderin' if you had any plans this evenin'."

She looked at him in surprise.

"I was considering attending the gathering in the mess hall," she answered. "There are several crewmembers in the ship's science department who will not be returning. I would like to say goodbye."

"I was thinkin' of goin' myself," he smiled, enthusiasm returning to his voice. "Would you like some company?"

She regarded him for a moment. Company seemed the thing she needed the most right now. She still couldn't free herself of the odd sensation, which had taken hold of her.

"That would be acceptable."

Trip looked at her hesitantly. Uncertain, if he should say anything more.

"T'Pol…"

"Yes?"

"I'm gonna be pretty busy supervisin' the repairs," he started. "Not gonna have too much leave time, like the rest of the crew."

"Your experience will help speed the repair time considerably," she replied

"Yeah…well…I was wonderin' if you'd…if you'd like to have dinner with me, in San Francisco. I know a great restaurant, that serves vegetarian."

She considered the invitation. Attending the gathering in the mess hall was one thing. They could both justify reasons for attending together. But this was something completely different. Among humans, dining had many social customs attached to it. However, she would be derelict if she did not acknowledge the particular custom, which he was offering her. Was she ready for this step? Her odd feeling proved to be unsettling. Another affect of her Trellium addiction? Perhaps now was the time to seek out a friend. Her affection for Trip was something she could no longer deny. If their friendship led to something more intimate, then it would be because they both wanted it to.

"I would like that very much, Trip."

"Great," he said smiling. "You still want to tag along to the mess hall?"

"Yes," she said giving him a small smile.

Leaving her quarters, they headed down the corridor. Turning, she looked back as the door to her quarters closed. An intangible feeling resonated through her. She felt as if a door to her own life had suddenly closed. It was something she found difficult to comprehend. But she was certain of one thing. Whoever or whatever had closed it…had done so for her sake.

THE END


End file.
